Amended Allegiant
by DMH07
Summary: V. R. created a beautiful, new world. She also created a world that ended with devastation. I wanted to change that. I used her beauty and added my own to it. I gave Allegiant an ending that remains true to the dystopian world, but still provides some hope of happiness. What if there was less death and more mending? Enjoy, and R&R! Note: Italics are V.R.'s words, regular are mine.
1. Chapter 1 (CH 47)

**Note:** All characters and story in general came right from Veronica Roth's head, not mine. I only expounded on her idea. Also, _ALL of the words in regular Italic font belong_ to Veronica Roth – her exact words. Whenever you see regular font you are seeing my wording. Also, the _**bold Italic words**_ are mine and are meant to be read with typical italic flare. The first few chapters are here almost word for word from her book because I thought it was necessary to lead up to the change.

CHAPTER 47 (continued)

TRIS

" _Stop!" a voice shouts from behind me._

 _The security guards. They found us._

" _Stop or we'll shoot!"_

 _Caleb shudders and lifts his hands. I lift mine, too, and look at him._

 _I feel everything slowing down inside me, my racing thoughts and the pounding of my heart._

 _When I look at him, I don't see the cowardly young man who sold me out to Jeanine Matthews, and I don't hear the excuses he gave afterward._

 _When I look at him, I see the boy who held my hand in the hospital when our mother broke her wrist and told me it would be all right. I see the brother who told me to make my own choices, the night before the Choosing Ceremony. I think of all the remarkable things he is—smart and enthusiastic and observant, quiet and earnest and kind._

 _He is a part of me, always will be, and I am a part of him, too. I don't belong to Abnegation, or Dauntless, or even the Divergent. I don't belong to the Bureau or the experiment or the fringe. I belong to the people I love, and they belong to me—they, and the love and loyalty I give them, form my identity far more than any word or group ever could._

 _I love my brother. I love him, and he is quaking with terror at the thought of death. I love him and all I can think, all I can hear in my mind, are the words I said to him a few days ago: I would never deliver you to your own execution._

" _Caleb," I say. "Give me the backpack."_

" _What?" he says._

 _I slip my hand under the back of my shirt and grab my gun. I point it at him. "Give me the backpack."_

" _Tris, no." He shakes his head. "No, I won't let you do that."_

" _Put down your weapon!" the guard screams at the end of the hallway. "Put down your weapon or we will fire!"_

" _I might survive the death serum," I say. "I'm good at fighting off serums. There's a chance I'll survive. There's no chance you would survive. Give me the backpack or I'll shoot you in the leg and take it from you."_

 _Then I raise my voice so the guards can hear me. "He's my hostage! Come any closer and I'll kill him!"_

 _In that moment he reminds me of our father. His eyes are tired and sad. There's a shadow of a beard on his chin. His hands shake as he pulls the backpack to the front of his body and offers it to me._

 _I take it and swing it over my shoulder. I keep my gun pointed at him and shift so he's blocking my view of the soldiers at the end of the hallway._

" _Caleb," I say, "I love you."_

 _His eyes gleam with tears as he says, "I love you, too, Beatrice."_

" _Get down on the floor!" I yell, for the benefit of the guards._

 _Caleb sinks to his knees._

" _If I don't survive," I say, "tell Tobias I didn't want to leave him."_

 _I back up, aiming over Caleb's shoulder at one of the security guards. I inhale and steady my hand._ Just before I get the shot off, Matthew appears behind one of the two guards. For a moment we lock eyes, and I think of Tobias. I think of what he would do, what he would say in this moment without saying anything at all. I stare at Matthew as hard as I can and pray he still has his gun. I hope the slight nod of his head means he understands _._ The seconds long exchange over, returning my focus back to the guards, _I exhale and fire. I hear a pained yell, and sprint in the other direction with the sound of gunfire in my ears._

 _As I run, I swing the backpack around my body and open the zipper. I take out the explosives and the detonator. There are shouts and running footsteps behind me. I don't have any time. I don't have any time._

 _I run harder, faster than I thought I could. The impact of each footstep shudders through me and I turn the next corner, where there are two guards standing by the doors Nita and the invaders broke. Clutching the explosives and detonator to my chest with my free hand, I shoot one guard in the leg and the other in the chest._

 _The one I shot in the leg reaches for his gun, and I fire again, closing my eyes after I aim. He doesn't move again._

 _I run past the broken doors and into the hallway between them. I slam the explosives against the metal bar where the two doors join, and clamp down the claws around the edge of the bar so it will stay. Then I run back to the end of the hallway and around the corner and crouch, my back to the doors, as I press the detonation button and shield my ears with my palms._

 _The noise vibrates in my bones as the small bomb detonates, and the force of the blast throws me sideways, my gun sliding across the floor. Pieces of glass and metal spray through the air, falling to the floor where I lie, stunned. Even though I sealed off my ears with my hands, I still hear ringing when I take them away, and I feel unsteady on my feet._

 _At the end of the hallway,_ I can see my followers caught up with me; well one of them, at least. Matthew, and I have to assume the other footsteps, not far behind, belong to Caleb. I have no time to think, I am running on one cylinder now: act. I notice the blast has thrown my perception just slightly _as I_ get up and _throw myself around the corner again, half walking and half stumbling to the blasted-open doors._

 _Beyond them is a small vestibule with a set of sealed, lockless doors at the other end. Through the windows in those doors I see the Weapons Lab, the even rows of machinery and dark devices and serum vials, lit from beneath like they're on display. I hear a spraying sound and know that the death serum is floating through the air, but_ there could be _guards behind me, and I don't have time to put on the suit that will delay its effects._

 _I also know, I just know, that I can survive this._

 _I step into the vestibule._


	2. Chapter 2 (CH 49)

**Note:** All characters and story in general came right from Veronica Roth's head, not mine. I only expounded on her idea. Also, _ALL of the words in regular Italic font belong_ to Veronica Roth – her exact words. Whenever you see regular font you are seeing my wording. Also, the _**bold Italic words**_ are mine and are meant to be read with typical italic flare. The first few chapters are here almost word for word from her book because I thought it was necessary to lead up to the change.

CHAPTER 49

TRIS

 _THE DEATH SERUM smells like smoke and spice, and my lungs reject it with the first breath I take. I cough and splutter, and I am swallowed by darkness._

 _I crumple to my knees. My body feels like someone has replaced my blood with molasses, and my bones with lead. An invisible thread tugs me toward sleep, but I want to be awake. It is important that I want to be awake. I imagine that wanting, that desire, burning in my chest like a flame._

 _The thread tugs harder, and I stoke the flame with names. Tobias. Caleb. Christina. Matthew. Cara. Zeke. Uriah._

 _But I can't bear up under the serum's weight. My body falls to the side, and_ I feel my arm pressing _to the cold ground. I am drifting. . . ._

 _It would be nice to float away, a voice in my head says. To see where I will go . . ._

 _But the fire, the fire._

 _The desire to live._

 _I am not done yet, I am not._

 _I feel like I am digging through my own mind. It is difficult to remember why I came here and why I care about unburdening myself from this beautiful weight. But then my scratching hands find it, the memory of my mother's face, and the strange angles of her limbs on the pavement, and the blood seeping from my father's body._

 _But they are dead, the voice says. You could join them._

 _They died for me, I answer. And now I have something to do, in return. I have to stop other people from losing everything. I have to save the city and the people my mother and father loved._

 _If I go to join my parents, I want to carry with me a good reason, not this—this senseless collapsing at the threshold._

 _The fire, the fire. It rages within, a campfire and then an inferno, and my body is its fuel. I feel it racing through me, eating away at the weight. There is nothing that can kill me now; I am powerful and invincible and eternal._

 _I feel the serum clinging to my skin like oil, but the darkness recedes. I slap a heavy hand over the floor and push myself up._

 _Bent at the waist, I shove my shoulder into the double doors, and they squeak across the floor as their seal breaks. I breathe clean air and stand up straighter. I am there, I am there._

 _But I am not alone._

" _Don't move," David says, raising his gun. "Hello, Tris."_


	3. Chapter 3 (CH 50)

**Note:** All characters and story in general came right from Veronica Roth's head, not mine. I only expounded on her idea. Also, _ALL of the words in regular Italic font belong_ to Veronica Roth – her exact words. Whenever you see regular font you are seeing my wording. Also, the _**bold Italic words**_ are mine and are meant to be read with typical italic flare. The first few chapters are here almost word for word from her book because I thought it was necessary to lead up to the change.

CHAPTER 50

TRIS

" _HOW DID YOU inoculate yourself against the death serum?" he asks me. He's still sitting in his wheelchair, but you don't need to be able to walk to fire a gun._

 _I blink at him, still dazed._

 _"I didn't," I say._

 _"Don't be stupid," David says. "You can't survive the death serum without an inoculation, and I'm the only person in the compound who possesses that substance."_

 _I just stare at him, not sure what to say. I didn't inoculate myself. The fact that I'm still standing upright is impossible. There's nothing more to add._

 _"I suppose it no longer matters," he says. "We're here now."_

 _"What are you doing here?" I mumble. My lips feel awkwardly large, hard to talk around. I still feel that oily heaviness on my skin, like death is clinging to me even though I have defeated it._

 _I am dimly aware that I left my own gun in the hallway behind me, sure I wouldn't need it if I made it this far._

 _"I knew something was going on," David says. "You've been running around with genetically damaged people all week, Tris, did you think I wouldn't notice?" He shakes his head. "And then your friend Cara was caught trying to manipulate the lights, but she very wisely knocked herself out before she could tell us anything. So I came here, just in case. I'm sad to say I'm not surprised to see you."_

 _"You came here alone?" I say. "Not very smart, are you?"_

 _His bright eyes squint a little. "Well, you see, I have death serum resistance and a weapon, and you have no way to fight me. There's no way you can steal four virus devices while I have you at gunpoint. I'm afraid you've come all this way for no reason, and it will be at the expense of your life. The death serum may not have killed you, but I am going to. I'm sure you understand—officially we don't allow capital punishment, but I can't have you surviving this."_

 _He thinks I'm here to steal the weapons that will reset the experiments, not deploy one of them. Of course he does._

 _I try to guard my expression, though I'm sure it's still slack. I sweep my eyes across the room, searching for the device that will release the memory serum virus. I was there when Matthew described it to Caleb in painstaking detail earlier: a black box with a silver keypad, marked with a strip of blue tape with a model number written on it. It is one of the only items on the counter along the left wall, just a few feet away from me. But I can't move, or else he'll kill me._

 _I'll have to wait for the right moment, and do it fast._

 _"I know what you did," I say. I start to back up, hoping that the accusation will distract him. "I know you designed the attack simulation. I know you're responsible for my parents' deaths—for my mother's death. I know."_

 _"I am not responsible for her death!" David says, the words bursting from him, too loud and too sudden. "I told her what was coming just before the attack began, so she had enough time to escort her loved ones to a safe house. If she had stayed put, she would have lived. But she was a foolish woman who didn't understand making sacrifices for the greater good, and it killed her!"_

 _I frown at him. There's something about his reaction—about the glassiness of his eyes—something that he mumbled when Nita shot him with the fear serum—something about her._

 _"Did you love her?" I say. "All those years she was sending you correspondence . . . the reason you never wanted her to stay there . . . the reason you told her you couldn't read her updates anymore, after she married my father . . ."_

 _David sits still, like a statue, like a man of stone._

 _"I did," he says. "But that time is past."_

 _That must be why he welcomed me into his circle of trust, why he gave me so many opportunities. Because I am a piece of her, wearing her hair and speaking with her voice. Because he has spent his life grasping at her and coming up with nothing._

 _I hear footsteps in the hallway outside. The soldiers are coming. Good—I need them to. I need them to be exposed to the airborne serum, to pass it on to the rest of the compound. I hope they wait until the air is clear of death serum._

 _"My mother wasn't a fool," I say. "She just understood something you didn't. That it's not sacrifice if it's someone else's life you're giving away, it's just evil."_

 _I back up another step and say, "She taught me all about real sacrifice. That it should be done from love, not misplaced disgust for another person's genetics. That it should be done from necessity, not without exhausting all other options. That it should be done for people who need your strength because they don't have enough of their own. That's why I need to stop you from 'sacrificing' all those people and their memories. Why I need to rid the world of you once and for all."_

 _I shake my head._

" _I didn't come here to steal anything, David."_

 _I twist and lunge toward the device. The gun goes off,_ but I feel nothing _. I don't even know where the bullet hit me._

 _I can still hear Caleb repeating the code for Matthew._ It's so loud it almost sounds like he's in the room with me. _With a quaking hand I type in the numbers on the keypad._

 _The gun goes off again._

I still feel no pain; a residual side effect of the death serum, I think. I feel no pain _, but I hear Caleb's voice speaking again._

" _The green button_! Tris, the green button, do it now!"

I respond to the voice automatically, slamming my hand into the keypad. _A light turns on behind the green button._

 _I hear a beep, and a churning sound._

It's done. I don't know how, but we did it. And I'm still here. I am checking my body for bullet holes when I hear something just off to my right sliding to the floor.

Caleb.

His voice was real. He was right beside me. Quickly I glance toward David, ready to attack, but both he and his wheelchair are overturned surrounded by a thick pool of red.

Instincts take over and I run to Caleb. He is slumped on the floor, his breath shallow, but at least he's breathing.

"Beatrice," he says weakly, reaching one hand toward me. I don't know what he's reaching for, exactly, but he lands on my forearm. "Beatrice, you did it."

"Caleb, what are you doing here?"

"I knew you could do it, but I couldn't let you go. I needed…" His breaths are coming much farther apart now. "I needed to know that you were going to get out. I needed to know I did all I could,"

He's looking at me like he's noticing me for the first time or the last time. Caleb, my brother. When it really mattered, he saved me. He saved me and now I am holding his body while he dies. I won't get another moment with him. I thought if his sacrifice was one of love, and in the end it was, I would be able to get over it quickly. Looking at him now, I don't know that I will be able to at all. I have so much to say to him, but my voice is stuck and my vision is blurry.

"Caleb, Caleb, look at me, just look at me. I love you. I forgive you. I love you." I am trying to be brave, but my voice catches just at the end.

"I love you too…Tris." His eyes close and his hand slips from my arm. I am waiting for his next breath. When it doesn't come, I can't hold back the sobs.

My only move from him is to cradle his head to me. As I rock us back and forth, his body lifeless and mine moving back and forth, I think of all the people that gave their lives for me. My entire family is dead, they died saving me. That day Tobias got us out of Erudite, I declared my family gone. Not until this moment did I actually feel their loss. If Caleb had been the same emotionally stunted boy that entered Erudite, I could have walked right out of this room. But Tobias was right. He loved me. Caleb loved me, even if he didn't know entirely how to say it or show it, he died for it.

I stay rocking him until my body feels cold. I can hear commotion in the hallways, confusion, but I can't bring myself to move just yet. Time. I'll always need more time.

I don't know how long I rock with Caleb, but eventually I stop crying and all I feel is tired. So tired. Closing my eyes, Caleb still cradled in my arms, I let darkness take me over.


	4. Chapter 4 (CH 51)

**Note:** All characters and story in general came right from Veronica Roth's head, not mine. I only expounded on her idea. Also, _ALL of the words in regular Italic font belong_ to Veronica Roth – her exact words. Whenever you see regular font you are seeing my wording. Also, the _**bold Italic words**_ are mine and are meant to be read with typical italic flare. The first few chapters are here almost word for word from her book because I thought it was necessary to lead up to the change.

CHAPTER 51

 _TOBIAS_

 _EVELYN BRUSHES THE tears from her eyes with her thumb. We stand by the windows, shoulder to shoulder, watching the snow swirl past. Some of the flakes gather on the windowsill outside, piling at the corners._

 _The feeling has returned to my hands. As I stare out at the world, dusted in white, I feel like everything has begun again, and it will be better this time._

" _I think I can get in touch with Marcus over the radio to negotiate a peace agreement," Evelyn says. "He'll be listening in; he'd be stupid not to."_

" _Before you do that, I made a promise I have to keep," I say. I touch Evelyn's shoulder. I expected to see strain at the edges of her smile, but I don't._

 _I feel a twinge of guilt. I didn't come here to ask her to lay down arms for me, to trade in everything she's worked for just to get me back. But then again, I didn't come here to give her any choice at all. I guess Tris was right—when you have to choose between two bad options, you pick the one that saves the people you love. I wouldn't have been saving Evelyn by giving her that serum. I would have been destroying her._

 _Peter sits with his back to the wall in the hallway. He looks up at me when I lean over him, his dark hair stuck to his forehead from the melted snow._

" _Did you reset her?" he says._

" _No," I say._

" _Didn't think you would have the nerve."_

" _It's not about nerve. You know what? Whatever." I shake my head and hold up the vial of memory serum. "Are you still set on this?"_

 _He nods._

" _You could just do the work, you know," I say. "You could make better decisions, make a better life."_

" _Yeah, I could," he says. "But I won't. We both know that."_

 _I do know that. I know that change is difficult, and comes slowly, and that it is the work of many days strung together in a long line until the origin of them is forgotten. He is afraid that he will not be able to put in that work, that he will squander those days, and that they will leave him worse off than he is now. And I understand that feeling—I understand being afraid of yourself._

 _So I have him sit on one of the couches, and I ask him what he wants me to tell him about himself, after his memories disappear like smoke. He just shakes his head. Nothing. He wants to retain nothing._

 _Peter takes the vial with a shaking hand and twists off the cap. The liquid trembles inside it, almost spilling over the lip. He holds it under his nose to smell it._

" _How much should I drink?" he says, and I think I hear his teeth chattering._

" _I don't think it makes a difference," I say._

" _Okay. Well . . . here goes." He lifts the vial up to the light like he is toasting me._

 _When he touches it to his mouth, I say, "Be brave."_

 _Then he swallows._

 _And I watch Peter disappear._

 _The air outside tastes like ice._

" _Hey! Peter!" I shout, my breaths turning to vapor._

 _Peter stands by the doorway to Erudite headquarters, looking clueless. At the sound of his name—which I have told him at least ten times since he drank the serum—he raises his eyebrows, pointing to his chest. Matthew told us people would be disoriented for a while after drinking the memory serum, but I didn't think "disoriented" meant "stupid" until now._

 _I sigh. "Yes, that's you! For the eleventh time! Come on, let's go."_

 _I thought that when I looked at him after he drank the serum, I would still see the initiate who shoved a butter knife into Edward's eye, and the boy who tried to kill my girlfriend, and all the other things he has done, stretching backward for as long as I've known him. But it's easier than I thought to see that he has no idea who he is anymore. His eyes still have that wide, innocent look, but this time, I believe it._

 _Evelyn and I walk side by side, with Peter trotting behind us. The snow has stopped falling now, but enough has collected on the ground that it squeaks under my shoes._

 _We walk to Millennium Park, where the mammoth bean sculpture reflects the moonlight, and then down a set of stairs. As we descend, Evelyn wraps her hand around my elbow to keep her balance, and we exchange a look. I wonder if she is as nervous as I am to face my father again. I wonder if she is nervous every time._

 _At the bottom of the steps is a pavilion with two glass blocks, each one at least three times as tall as I am, at either end. This is where we told Marcus and Johanna we would meet them—both parties armed, to be realistic but even._

 _They are already there. Johanna isn't holding a gun, but Marcus is, and he has it trained on Evelyn. I point the gun Evelyn gave me at him, just to be safe. I notice the planes of his skull, showing through his shaved hair, and the jagged path his crooked nose carves down his face._

" _Tobias!" Johanna says. She wears a coat in Amity red, dusted with snowflakes. "What are you doing here?"_

" _Trying to keep you all from killing each other," I say. "I'm surprised you're carrying a gun."_

 _I nod to the bulge in her coat pocket, the unmistakable contours of a weapon._

" _Sometimes you have to take difficult measures to ensure peace," Johanna says. "I believe you agree with that, as a principle."_

" _We're not here to chat," Marcus says, looking at Evelyn. "You said you wanted to talk about a treaty."_

 _The past few weeks have taken something from him. I can see it in the turned-down corners of his mouth, in the purple skin under his eyes. I see my own eyes set into his skull, and I think of my reflection in the fear landscape, how terrified I was, watching his skin spread over mine like a rash. I am still nervous that I will become him, even now, standing at odds with him with my mother at my side, like I always dreamed I would when I was a child._

 _But I don't think that I'm still afraid._

" _Yes," Evelyn says. "I have some terms for us both to agree to. I think you will find them fair. If you agree to them, I will step down and surrender whatever weapons I have that my people are not using for personal protection. I will leave the city and not return."_

 _Marcus laughs. I'm not sure if it's a mocking laugh or a disbelieving one. He's equally capable of either sentiment, an arrogant and deeply suspicious man._

" _Let her finish," Johanna says quietly, tucking her hands into her sleeves._

" _In return," Evelyn says, "you will not attack or try to seize control of the city. You will allow those people who wish to leave and seek a new life elsewhere to do so. You will allow those who choose to stay to vote on new leaders and a new social system. And most importantly, you, Marcus, will not be eligible to lead them."_

 _It is the only purely selfish term of the peace agreement. She told me she couldn't stand the thought of Marcus duping more people into following him, and I didn't argue with her._

 _Johanna raises her eyebrows. I notice that she has pulled her hair back on both sides, to reveal the scar in its entirety. She looks better that way—stronger, when she is not hiding behind a curtain of hair, hiding who she is._

" _No deal," Marcus says. "I am the leader of these people."_

" _Marcus," Johanna says._

 _He ignores her. "You don't get to decide whether I lead them or not because you have a grudge against me, Evelyn!"_

" _Excuse me," Johanna says loudly. "Marcus, what she is offering is too good to be true—we get everything we want without all the violence! How can you possibly say no?"_

" _Because I am the rightful leader of these people!" Marcus says. "I am the leader of the Allegiant! I—"_

" _No, you are not," Johanna says calmly. "I am the leader of the Allegiant. And you are going to agree to this treaty, or I am going to tell them that you had a chance to end this conflict without bloodshed if you sacrificed your pride, and you said no."_

 _Marcus's passive mask is gone, revealing the malicious face beneath it. But even he can't argue with Johanna, whose perfect calm and perfect threat have mastered him. He shakes his head but doesn't argue again._

" _I agree to your terms," Johanna says, and she holds out her hand, her footsteps squeaking in the snow._

 _Evelyn removes her glove fingertip by fingertip, reaches across the gap, and shakes._

" _In the morning we should gather everyone together and tell them the new plan," Johanna says. "Can you guarantee a safe gathering?"_

" _I'll do my best," Evelyn says._

 _I check my watch. An hour has passed since Amar and Christina separated from us near the Hancock building, which means he probably knows that the serum virus didn't work. Or maybe he doesn't. Either way, I have to do what I came here to do—I have to find Zeke and his mother and tell them what happened to Uriah._

" _I should go," I say to Evelyn. "I have something else to take care of. But I'll pick you up from the city limits tomorrow afternoon?"_

" _That sounds good," Evelyn says, and she rubs my arm briskly with a gloved hand, like she used to when I came in from the cold as a child._

" _You won't be back, I assume?" Johanna says to me. "You've found a life for yourself on the outside?"_

" _I have," I say. "Good luck in here. The people outside—they're going to try to shut the city down. You should be ready for them."_

 _Johanna smiles. "I'm sure we can negotiate with them."_

 _She offers me her hand, and I shake it. I feel Marcus's eyes on me like an oppressive weight threatening to crush me. I force myself to look at him._

" _Good-bye," I say to him, and I mean it._

 _Hana, Zeke's mother, has small feet that don't touch the ground when she sits in the easy chair in their living room. She is wearing a ragged black bathrobe and slippers, but the air she has, with her hands folded in her lap and her eyebrows raised, is so dignified that I feel like I am standing in front of a world leader. I glance at Zeke, who is rubbing his face with his fists to wake up._

 _Amar and Christina found them, not among the other revolutionaries near the Hancock building, but in their family apartment in the Pire, above Dauntless headquarters. I only found them because Christina thought to leave Peter and me a note with their location on the useless truck. Peter is waiting in the new van Evelyn found for us to drive to the Bureau._

" _I'm sorry," I say. "I don't know where to start."_

" _You might begin with the worst," Hana says. "Like what exactly happened to my son."_

" _He was seriously injured during an attack," I say. "There was an explosion, and he was very close to it."_

" _Oh God," Zeke says, and he rocks back and forth like his body wants to be a child again, soothed by motion as a child is._

 _But Hana just bends her head, hiding her face from me._

 _Their living room smells like garlic and onion, maybe remnants from that night's dinner. I lean my shoulder into the white wall by the doorway. Hanging crookedly next to me is a picture of the family—Zeke as a toddler, Uriah as a baby, balancing on his mother's lap. Their father's face is pierced in several places, nose and ear and lip, but his wide, bright smile and dark complexion are more familiar to me, because he passed them both to his sons._

" _He has been in a coma since then," I say. "And . . ."_

" _And he isn't going to wake up," Hana says, her voice strained. "That is what you came to tell us, right?"_

" _Yes," I say. "I came to collect you so that you can make a decision on his behalf."_

" _A decision?" Zeke says. "You mean, to unplug him or not?"_

" _Zeke," Hana says, and she shakes her head. He sinks back into the couch. The cushions seem to wrap around him._

" _Of course we don't want to keep him alive that way," Hana says. "He would want to move on. But we would like to go see him."_

 _I nod. "Of course. But there's something else I should say. The attack . . . it was a kind of uprising that involved some of the people from the place where we were staying. And I participated in it."_

 _I stare at the crack in the floorboards right in front of me, at the dust that has gathered there over time, and wait for a reaction, any reaction. What greets me is only silence._

" _I didn't do what you asked me," I say to Zeke. "I didn't watch out for him the way I should have. And I'm sorry."_

 _I chance a look at him, and he is just sitting still, staring at the empty vase on the coffee table. It is painted with faded pink roses._

" _I think we need some time with this," Hana says. She clears her throat, but it doesn't help her tremulous voice._

" _I wish I could give it to you," I say. "But we're going back to the compound very soon, and you have to come with us."_

" _All right," Hana says. "If you can wait outside, we will be there in five minutes."_

 _The ride back to the compound is slow and dark. I watch the moon disappear and reappear behind the clouds as we bump over the ground. When we reach the outer limits of the city, it begins to snow again, large, light flakes that swirl in front of the headlights. I wonder if Tris is watching it sweep across the pavement and gather in piles by the airplanes. I wonder if she is living in a better world than the one I left, among people who no longer remember what it is to have pure genes._

 _Christina leans forward to whisper into my ear. "So you did it? It worked?"_

 _I nod. In the rearview mirror I see her touch her face with both hands, grinning into her palms. I know how she feels: safe. We are all safe._

" _Did you inoculate your family?" I say._

" _Yep. We found them with the Allegiant, in the Hancock building," she says. "But the time for the reset has passed—it looks like Tris and Caleb stopped it."_

 _Hana and Zeke murmur to each other on the way, marveling at the strange, dark world we move through. Amar gives the basic explanation as we go, looking back at them instead of the road far too often for my comfort. I try to ignore my surges of panic as he almost veers into streetlights or road barriers, and focus instead on the snow._

 _I have always hated the emptiness that winter brings, the blank landscape and the stark difference between sky and ground, the way it transforms trees into skeletons and the city into a wasteland. Maybe this winter I can be persuaded otherwise._

 _We drive past the fences and stop by the front doors, which are no longer manned by guards. We get out, and Zeke seizes his mother's hand to steady her as she shuffles through the snow. As we walk into the compound, I know for a fact that Caleb succeeded, because there is no one in sight. That can only mean that they have been reset, their memories forever altered._

" _Where is everyone?" Amar says._

 _We walk through the abandoned security checkpoint without stopping. On the other side, I see Cara. The side of her face is badly bruised, and there's a bandage on her head._ She has an expression on her face that I can't quite pinpoint.

" _What is it?" I say._

"I went there – the weapons lab - as soon as I knew the memory serum had been released and found them. Tris went into the weapons lab instead of Caleb—she survived the death serum. Do you know how extraordinary that is? No one survives that, it's impossible."

"Where's Tris?" I say a little too sharply.

"She's with Caleb—"

I don't wait for her to finish before breaking out into a sprint towards Tris. I slow down as I near the lab doors; my whole body is shaking and my hands are sweaty. She's alive. I know she is; if she wasn't, Cara would have just said so. Right? She has to be alive.

No matter how many times I repeat that to myself, I can't shake the fear that I won't find Tris, only her body. If she's gone, I won't survive it. I know I won't.

I remember _when her body first hit the net, all I registered was a gray blur. I pulled her across it and her hand was small, but warm, and then she stood before me, short and thin and plain and in all ways unremarkable—except that she had jumped first. The Stiff had jumped first._

 _Even I didn't jump first._

 _Her eyes were so stern, so insistent._

 _Beautiful._

 _BUT THAT WASN'T the first time I ever saw her. I saw her in the hallways at school, and at my mother's false funeral, and walking the sidewalks in the Abnegation sector. I saw her, but I didn't see her; no one saw her the way she truly was until she jumped._


	5. Chapter 5 (CH 52)

**Note:** All characters and story in general came right from Veronica Roth's head, not mine. I only expounded on her idea. Also, _ALL of the words in regular Italic font belong_ to Veronica Roth – her exact words. Whenever you see regular font you are seeing my wording. Also, the _**bold Italic words**_ are mine and are meant to be read with typical italic flare. The first few chapters are here almost word for word from her book because I thought it was necessary to lead up to the change.

CHAPTER 52

TOBIAS

ALL I CAN make out in the lab is a back dressed in dark clothing, hunched over something. I hold my breath as I stare at that back. I look for movement, but I don't see any. I don't know if it's too dark or because there is no life.

"Tris?" I intend to sound strong and sure but instead the word comes out as a scared whisper. I try again. "Tris," I say, louder this time.

Slowly, God, so slowly her head turns toward me.

"Tobias?"

Her voice sounds scratchy, like she'd been screaming, or crying, for hours. My feet don't move, but my eyes try to take in every inch of her they can reach. Her eyes are swollen and red. Her face is splotchy with a few scratches. Nothing appears life threatening.

"I can't….I'm so tired."

My feet are finally rushing to her. I have to unwrap her arms from Caleb's body and set him down before I can lift her up. As I am carrying her from the room I get a closer look at her; her hands and face have a layer of small red bumps and she's sweating. She's been sitting still for who knows how long and she's sweating. I pick up the pace, moving her as little as possible, and head straight to the infirmary.

Matthew, luckily, thought to inoculate several people on the hospital staff. There is still confusion here, but at least there are some people who can help.

"Help! I need help! Somebody help me!"

I don't even care who comes to help as long as someone comes quick. Her breaths are shallower every minute. I can't lose her, I can't. She didn't go through everything she went through – we didn't go through everything we went through just to have her leave it all. And that's what she'd be doing. She'd be leaving it all. She'd be leaving me.

"What happened?"

"She…" What did happen? Did the serum go off while she was going through it? Or did Cara say that she went in after Caleb did? I am useless. The most important person in my world is fading away and I can't come up with any answers.

"She went into the weapon's lab and was exposed to the death serum. If my calculations are correct, she was in with the serum for no longer than five or six minutes. She made it through, but I have to assume there are some lingering effects." Never in my life have I been so thankful to hear Cara's voice.

The doctor is taking her away and I can barely register them telling me to wait here. I don't do waiting well. I want to stand still. I want to move. I want to run.

None of those things will make Tris okay, but I have to do something.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Zeke and Hana go into a room – Uriah's. Silently, I move to stand outside his window. There is no change in him. Uriah the dauntless is lying in his own personal cage. How did things get to this point? Coming here, to this place, it was supposed to be a fresh start. It was supposed to bring freedom for all of us.

I don't know if I'll ever be forgiven for letting Uriah slip through my grip or leaving Tris to deal with an impossible task. At this point, I'm willing to do almost anything to change those mistakes. I am prepared to sacrifice myself, if that's what it takes, to keep them going, to keep them alive and breathing.

As the hours pass I find myself hovering between Tris and Uriah's rooms, terrified to leave and desperate to at the same time. Eventually I make my way to the chairs along the wall where Cara, Christina and Matthew are already seated.

We sit in silence and wait for a sign, a word, anything from either room.

Nothing comes. Are they ever going to know anything?

Hana and Zeke are keeping a silent watch over Uriah, like sentries watching for a change; like dauntless protecting what's important.

All I can see in Tris' room is a doctor and nurse administering what I have to assume are tests. Eventually the doctor steps out of her room and it's all I can do to not pounce on him.

As one unit, all four of us jump to our feet.

"Is she…" I don't even know how to say what I need to say, but my voice gets his attention. He looks tired, very tired. Is that a good sign or a bad one?

"I think she's going to be okay. There's only so much that I can do from a diagnostic standpoint – no one has ever made it through the death serum before, so this may end up being trial and error. From what we can tell, the only physical reaction to the serum would be the burns on her skin. We are going to take her to get some CT scans and possibly an MRI, if we can ensure she stays sedated. After that we will have a general idea of how damaged she is mentally. We won't know anything for sure until she wakes."

He finishes his speech with a heavy sigh, running his hand over his face.

Christina, maybe feeling the same desperation I am, quickly asks the next question. "But she will wake up, right? I mean, she's divergent. She can make it through anything."

"My guess is yes."

"Your guess? You'll have to do better than that." I say it using my instructor voice. It's how I've always gotten results in Dauntless – I'll make it get me results here too.

"Like I said, no one has made it through the death serum before. This is wholly unprecedented. Listen, you are free to stay out here or in there," he gestures behind him towards her room. "Someone will be down here later today to take her to her tests. Right now I have some other patients to tend to, if you'll excuse me."

After the doctor leaves, everyone waits for my first move. I'm both terrified and desperate to get to her side. She felt so limp and so fragile in my arms, but this is also Tris – the strongest person I know. That decides it for me. I can't be afraid.

Before the decision is fully formed, I'm in her room pulling a chair up to the side of her bed. Her hand is still warm. Somehow, it's not what I was expecting.

"C'mon, Tris. C'mon." I say it so quietly only I, and she, can hear it. I'm squeezing her hand too tight, I know I am, like if I squeeze tight enough she'll come to and I'll be able to look in her eyes again.

At some point, I vaguely register the others leaving the room. It's not until a nurse comes to take her to her tests that I am really aware of anything other than the sounds of her breathing and the feel of her hand in mine.

"We'll be a while, maybe you should go eat something; get yourself cleaned up."

Afraid to take too long, yet still feeling outside myself, I take a quick shower and grab some muffins to take back down to Tris' room. When I get there she's still getting tests done; I decide to head over to the next room. I don't know that I'm welcome there, so I once again take vigil at the window. It seems like that's all I can do for the people most important to me. Logically, I know that I didn't cause what happened to Uriah or Tris, but I feel it as deep as if I had.

I participated in the attack that is taking Uriah's life. I know now that's the only option for him. Uriah is going to die. I will probably never forgive myself for that. Not on my own. Not without Tris. Maybe I shouldn't forgive myself. I know Tris; if I was thinking hard enough about it, I would've known that she would try to take Caleb's place. If I had been with her, maybe she wouldn't have done it. But I couldn't have them both. I couldn't get to Uriah's family without leaving Tris and I couldn't stay with Tris without neglecting Uriah's family. I had a choice to make; Tris or Uriah.

I can feel someone's eyes on me. As I pull them away from Uriah's barely there body, I meet the devastated eyes of Zeke. The intensity of his stare almost knocks me over. I can't move. I stand there immobilized by his grief. After what feels like hours, but I'm sure is no more than a few minutes, the stare is broken by the arrival of Tris' gurney being wheeled back into her room.

The nurse tells me that everything looked normal and that the doctor will be in to check on her periodically. Great. There's nothing I love more than waiting endlessly without answers.


	6. Chapter 6 (CH 53)

**Note:** All characters and story in general came right from Veronica Roth's head, not mine. I only expounded on her idea. Also, _ALL of the words in regular Italic font belong_ to Veronica Roth – her exact words. Whenever you see regular font you are seeing my wording. Also, the _**bold Italic words**_ are mine and are meant to be read with typical italic flare. The first few chapters are here almost word for word from her book because I thought it was necessary to lead up to the change.

CHAPTER 53

TOBIAS

 _IN THE DAYS that follow, it's movement, not stillness, that helps to keep the grief at bay, so I walk the compound halls instead of sleeping,_ making sure to never stray too far from Tris _. I watch everyone else recover from the memory serum that altered them permanently as if from a great distance._

 _Those lost in the memory serum haze are gathered into groups and given the truth: that human nature is complex, that all our genes are different, but neither damaged nor pure. They are also given the lie: that their memories were erased because of a freak accident, and that they were on the verge of lobbying the government for equality for GDs._

 _I keep finding myself stifled by the company of others and then crippled by loneliness when I leave them._ Being near Tris, holding her hand, brushing my hand through her hair, those things help, but often they make the pain more intense. I can't help but feel, if she was going to wake up she would have already; I can't stop the thought from coming. _My hands shake as I stop by the control room to watch the city on the screens. Johanna is arranging transportation for those who want to leave the city. They will come here to learn the truth. I don't know what will happen to those who remain in Chicago, and I'm not sure I care._

 _I shove my hands into my pockets and watch for a few minutes, then walk away again, trying to match my footsteps to my heartbeat, or to avoid the cracks between the tiles. When I walk past the entrance, I see a small group of people gathered by the stone sculpture, one of them in a wheelchair—Nita._

 _I walk past the useless security barrier and stand at a distance, watching them. Reggie steps on the stone slab and opens a valve in the bottom of the water tank. The drops turn into a stream of water, and soon water gushes out of the tank, splattering all over the slab, soaking the bottom of Reggie's pants._ I know the end result was what needed to happen but watching them, remembering their methods, I have to wonder if it truly was worth it. They were willing to do whatever it took to achieve it; is that so different from Jeanine and Erudite? I don't know. I just don't know.

Shaking my head, I walk back to Tris' room and try to get comfortable in the chair next to her bed. A couple of days ago, someone switched the stiff chair with an extra padded one and left some pillows and blankets with it. The stiff one still sits next to Tris' bed, but rarely does anyone else stay long enough to use it.

 _Sometime later I hear voices nearby—Cara and Peter._ I keep my eyes on Tris, hungrily looking for any sign of change while absently listening to the conversation in the hall.

" _This sculpture was a symbol of change," she says to him. "Gradual change, but now they're taking it down."_ Apparently they also made it past Reggie's exuberant display.

" _Oh, really?" Peter sounds eager. "Why?"_

" _Um . . . I'll explain later, if that's okay," Cara says. "Do you remember how to get back to the dormitory?"_

" _Yep."_

" _Then . . . go back there for a while. Someone will be there to help you."_

I hear _Cara walk over to me, and I cringe in anticipation of her voice. But all she does is sit next to me on the_ stiff hospital chair, _her hands folded in her lap, her back straight. Alert but relaxed, she_ stares almost quizzically at Tris _._

" _You don't have to stay here," I say._

" _I don't have anywhere to be," she says. "And the quiet is nice."_

 _So we sit side by side, staring at_ Tris _, in silence._

" _There you are," Christina says,_ stopping in the doorway. For a minute I'm confused; where else would I be? I walk around for short periods of time, but I always end up here _. Her face is swollen and her voice is listless, like a heavy sigh. "Come on, it's time. They're unplugging him."_

 _I shudder at the word, but push myself to my feet_ anyway, giving Tris' hand a squeeze before letting go. _Hana and Zeke have been hovering over Uriah's body since we got here, their fingers finding his, their eyes searching for life. But there is no life left, just the machine beating his heart._

 _Cara_ stands _behind Christina and me as we_ post ourselves at his window _. I haven't slept in days but I don't feel tired, not in the way I normally do, though my body aches. Christina and I don't speak, but I know our thoughts are the same, fixed on Uriah, on his last breaths._

 _Evelyn is_ suddenly next to me _—Amar picked her up in my stead, a few days ago. She tries to touch my shoulder and I yank it away, not wanting to be comforted._

 _Inside the room, Zeke and Hana stand on either side of Uriah. Hana is holding one of his hands, and Zeke is holding the other. A doctor stands near the heart monitor, a clipboard outstretched, held out to Hana_ , but Zeke has to nudge her shoulder to get her to notice. She signs it quickly then grabs Uriah's hand again.

They _join their free hands over_ his _body. I see Hana's lips moving, but I can't tell what she's saying—do the Dauntless have prayers for the dying? The Abnegation react to death with silence and service, not words. I find my anger ebbing away, and I'm lost in muffled grief again, this time not just for Tris, but for Uriah, whose smile is burned into my memory. My friend's brother, and then my friend too, though not for long enough to let his humor work its way into me, not for long enough._

 _The doctor flips some switches, his clipboard clutched to his stomach, and the machines stop breathing for Uriah. Zeke's shoulders shake, and Hana squeezes his hand tightly, until her knuckles go white._

 _Then she says something, and her hands spring open, and she steps back from Uriah's body. Letting him go._

 _I move away from the window, walking at first, and then running, pushing my way through the hallways, careless, blind, empty._ It doesn't matter that I didn't know Uriah that well. It doesn't matter that I am not directly responsible for the loss of his life. All that matters is that his life is lost. He's not going to wake up. The memories of him are so clear to me – like they all happened yesterday. Him welcoming Tris into the Dauntless born initiates without malice, him eating the biggest slice of chocolate cake he can find at every meal, him laughing too loud at every joke, him losing Marlene and then losing himself a little. Even then, even when he was filled with sadness and loss, he still found a way to laugh. He may have handled his sadness recklessly, but at least he handled it. He didn't deserve this, his end was supposed to be better than this.

Is this how Tris' life will end? Hooked up to machines until they can no longer keep her alive? Having just a signature on a clipboard signify her death? I can't breathe. I know I'm panicking, but _**I can't breathe.**_

I've stopped running, but I still can't manage to stand up straight. I can feel something cool and hard against my back. It's that damn sculpture, the one that Tris was so curious about; the one Uriah was standing near when he got the injury that took his life. Everything is connected here.

What does that say about me? My only connection to this place is Tris. She is what makes me belong; not just here, but anywhere. I don't know that I will survive her death and I don't think I'll want to. Tris may think I'm stronger than I am – stronger than the grief that would surround me, but I don't know how to be. I know how to be strong against an opponent. I know how to be brave in the face of danger. I know how to stand up to impossible odds. Grief is not something I know. The only person I've ever grieved over turned out to be someone who faked their death and left me behind. Even then I didn't have the opportunity to grieve. I've never known how to handle real, true grief.

I hate the weakness I can feel in myself. It's ugly, knowing that I would gladly give myself up if I lost her.

Right now there is at least one thing I can do to keep it at bay. Uriah may have been my new friend, but Zeke is my old friend. No matter what he feels about me or what I did, he needs to know that I'm also mourning the loss of his brother. That I wish it didn't happen. Maybe if I focus on that pain, I can keep the hard thoughts about Tris from coming.


	7. Chapter 7 (CH 54)

**Note:** All characters and story in general came right from Veronica Roth's head, not mine. I only expounded on her idea. Also, _ALL of the words in regular Italic font belong_ to Veronica Roth – her exact words. Whenever you see regular font you are seeing my wording. Also, the _**bold Italic words**_ are mine and are meant to be read with typical italic flare. The first few chapters are here almost word for word from her book because I thought it was necessary to lead up to the change.

CHAPTER 54

TOBIAS

FOR THE FIRST time that I've seen, Zeke and Hana are outside Uriah's room. Dauntless funerals, if you can call them that, usually turn into a celebration - one with a lot of liquor. But here, death is met with sympathy. Here they acknowledge that death is a sad thing. It's more fitting. I watch as people step up to them to say insufficient condolences; some knew all three of them, but most only knew Uriah. I will my body to move to the back of the line and I try to think of something, anything to say.

When it's my turn, I still haven't thought of anything. All I can do is stare at Zeke and try to be strong. I can tell he's searching me for something, but I don't know what it is. I struggle, but succeed, to maintain eye contact. He must find what he's looking for; he gives me a nod and looks toward Hana. I take the queue and look to her too. Tears for her are not a sign of weakness; I wonder if she's stopped crying since she got here. She holds my stare for only a moment before pulling me to her. Hugging is still an awkward thing for me, but much like in my relationship with Tris, I don't touch anyone idly. If this is what she needs to be comforted, I am going to do my best to give it to her. I am about to pull my arms away when I hear her voice in my ear.

"Your girl is strong, Four. She's going to make it through this. My Uri was special and strong, but some of the light left him when Marlene died. Tris has something to fight for. Don't you forget that, okay? She's dauntless, maybe more than the rest of us."

She unwraps her arms just enough to grab me by the shoulders with one hand and rest her other on my cheek.

"Be brave." Those are the same words I've said to anyone just before I put them through any kind of trauma; Tris just before her fear simulation, Eric just before I killed him, Peter just before the memory serum. And those are the words I need most to hear. I think she knows it, too. She nods once and lets go of me completely.

Walking back to Tris' room I think about Hana. Since the accident happened I've been consumed with the state that Uriah was in, how Zeke would react to my betrayal, whether or not Tris would forgive me for it; I don't know that I've thought about Hana even once. Here she is, a grieving mother, really mourning the loss of her youngest child and trying to give comfort to the one indirectly responsible for it.

"Be brave," she said. Brave means not giving up even when the chances seem impossible. It means standing even when the weight holding you down is suffocating. It means moving – anywhere – even when grief is forcing you backwards.

Almost second nature, I pull my chair closer to Tris' bed, grab her hand with a squeeze and sit down. The others must have been waiting for me to get in here first, because shortly after I sit Christina, Matthew and Cara find various places to sit in the room. Christina sits in the stiff chair, Cara on the window sill and Matthew leans against the wall. It's a companionable silence. What is there to say, really?

At some point someone, Cara I think, gets us dinner and we attempt to eat while surrounding Tris' bed. Usually I am the only in the room with her at this time, but I think today we all need some solace. Watching that happen with Uriah was hard on us all.

I'm woken sometime in the middle of the night by a gentle squeeze to my hand; maybe not quite a squeeze. I'm flooded with disappointment when I see the nurse very near me checking Tris' vitals. She must have accidentally brushed my hand. I feel, rather than hear, the sigh that leaves me. The others are still here and asleep in the same places they sat in.

"Do you know what time it is?" My voice sounds hoarse and foreign.

"It's 5:30 AM. You look like you've been awake for days, why don't you try to get some sleep?" Even as she is saying it, I can tell she knows it's advice I won't really follow.

"How long have we been here? Tris? How long has Tris been in the hospital?"

"Today will be day 4." She looks at me sadly as she says this, but I can't tell what she's sadder about; that Tris has been in here that long or that I can't remember how long it's been.

Suddenly I'm aware of how stiff and sore my body is; I need movement. Getting up, I squeeze Tris' hand like I always do when I come or go. I'm usually somewhere between a violent hope of feeling her squeeze back and forcing all those hopes down. It's not hard to force them down, she hasn't moved in four days.

So it's a shock when I feel her squeeze back. I don't move for a minute, my eyes glued to her hand. Waiting. Waiting for a sound, movement, anything. It can't have been more than a minute or so when I feel it again. It's not strong and it can't be called a grip, but her fingers moved against mine and that's enough for me.

I'm terrified to walk away, to break whatever is happening right now, so I settle for getting loud.

"Hey! Hey – somebody get in here! HEY!"

Out of the corner of my eye I see all the other occupants of the room bolt upright. Christina is the first one to my side.

"She moved. She, she moved." Loud just a moment ago, I now can't bring my voice above a whisper. I'm on the brink of collapsing in sheer relief.

The doctor and the same nurse shove me back as they enter the room, ready for anything I suppose.

"What happened?" The tension in the doctor's voice is actually tangible.

Mine is the exact opposite. I whisper again, "She moved. She just moved."

"What moved, what exactly did she do?"

"She grabbed my hand. Twice, wait no, three times. I thought it was the nurse at first, but it wasn't." As the relief washes over me, my body slumps into the chair and my head falls into my hands. "She moved."

They hover over her body and are doing God knows what while we all wait. Wait and watch with bated breath. When the doctor turns around, he too has a sad smile. How could he not? Uriah's death yesterday is now married with Tris' impossible revival.

"This is good, Tobias. This is a really good sign. Her vitals are great, and she is definitely responding. If I had to guess, I'd say she'll be awake and fully cognizant within the next 24 hours. She's out of the woods." With a nod to me they leave the room.

It doesn't take long for the tension in the room to break and the laughter to start. We need this – all of us. The entire compound is looking for answers to questions that only Tris has. And I, well I need her here for more reasons than I understand. Without her, I can't help but be a broken empty shell; without her I am not worth anything. It's more than just needing her to feel good about myself, though. Tris is light. She is magnificent and a world without her doesn't make sense.

 _There are_ all _kinds of people in this world. There is the kind like Tris, who, after suffering and betrayal, could still find enough love to lay down her life instead of her brother's. Or the kind like Cara, who could still forgive the person who shot her brother in the head. Or Christina, who lost friend after friend but still decided to stay open, to make new ones. Appearing in front of me is another choice, brighter and stronger than the ones I gave myself._

I have come so close to losing the most important person in my life so many different times, but none have felt as real or as close as this time. Yet here I am, being given another chance at having a life with her. All I have to do is choose to let go of everything keeping me back – all of the anger and pain and brokenness. I need to not let myself be defined by everything wrong and bad thing that's ever happened to me. I need to choose to look forward; to keep looking at what my life could be if I let it.

We've been dropped into this new world where we can make anything happen, make everything different. I could spend my years next to her warmth, trying to provoke her soft smiles and trying in vain to keep her safe and protected. We could live without baggage – much baggage – without fear or constant battle. This is the future that having Tris allows. Without her I couldn't have it; I'm not sure I'd even want it without her. But that's not something I need to think about; she's here. She's alive and she's here.

I'm almost giddy with relief and some part of me feels like I should be able to stay awake for days, but as I lay my head down on top of our hands my eyes close. I know I fall asleep with a smile on my face.


	8. Chapter 8 (CH 55)

**Note:** All characters and story in general came right from Veronica Roth's head, not mine. I only expounded on her idea. Also, _ALL of the words in regular Italic font belong_ to Veronica Roth – her exact words. Whenever you see regular font you are seeing my wording. Also, the _**bold Italic words**_ are mine and are meant to be read with typical italic flare. The first few chapters are here almost word for word from her book because I thought it was necessary to lead up to the change.

CHAPTER 55

TOBIAS

 _MY EYES OPENING, I offer the vial to her. She takes it and_ keeps her hold on my hand.

"It's okay. Everything is going to be okay now." She's smiling at me; automatically I smile back. I don't know what's going to be okay, but I trust her completely.

I'm standing there, smiling at her, watching her lift the vial to her lips. I would think something is off, but she continues to smile even after she's had everything in the vial. She continues even as her eyes close and her body starts to fall; only then does the situation feel wrong.

"TRIS! _**TRIS**_!"

I bolt upright in the chair that has become my home. Tris is still in her hospital bed looking at me. A dream. Just a dream.

Tris is looking at me. Her eyes are open and she's looking at me.

Stupidly, I can't form any words. My eyes get blurry and all I can do is stare. Somehow she manages to look both broken and whole. Over the past few days I've been vigilant about watching her body for any signs of change, so now I let my eyes search hers. It takes me a moment to realize she's crying, silently.

All I need to pull me out of my daze is a nod of her head. In an instant I move to touch my forehead to hers. For the first time ever I let my tears fall.

"I thought I was going to lose you. I thought you were gone, that you were going to leave me."

My eyes are closed, but I feel her shake her head no, and her arms wrap around me stronger than they should be able to. With my eyes still closed, I move my lips to hers and hold her as close as her bed will allow.

"Ah, I see my resilient patient has come back to us at last." For once, the doctor has a smile and no clip board. I should really learn his name.

"Tris? Tris!" Christina is the only one that speaks her relief, but I can tell that Matthew, Cara and maybe even Peter feel the same way. The only move I make away from Tris is to take my lips off of hers. I have no intention of backing away from her, so our friends settle for sitting close to her on the bed.

"How are you feeling? Sore anywhere? Any dizziness or lightheadedness?"

She thinks for a minute and then nods her head. After another pause she grabs at her throat and looks questioningly at the doctor.

"Ah, yes. Your throat is bound to be sore. You've been unconscious for four days, and while I can't be 100% sure, I have to assume the death serum you inhaled added to some discomfort." He looks unsure before speaking his next words, like he's unsure if he should say anything at all. "Tris, you are a medical marvel, an anomaly. Of course, we already knew that to some extent, but no one has ever survived the death serum before. Even the burns that appeared on your skin were gone within a couple days."

He knows the weight of his words. Caleb went through the death serum. Caleb didn't make it out. I had forgotten about him the moment I saw her eyes, but now I know it falls to me to tell her what happened. She seems to understand that too; she is looking at me expectantly.

"Caleb went in after you. Do you remember that?"

She only nods. She's trying to hold the tears back, but I wish she wouldn't.

"He saved your life, actually. If he hadn't come through those doors when he did," I can't stop the shudder that goes through me. I try to disguise it with a sigh. "If he didn't come back when he did, you wouldn't be here. He sacrificed himself for you, Tris."

When she closes her eyes it's almost too much for me to bear. It may be selfish, but the longer her eyes remained closed these last four days, the more terror I felt. I don't want her eyes to close now, not when I can finally see them.

"Tris, look at me." I wait. When she finally opens them, the tears are pouring out again. "He loved you, more than he loved himself. He didn't go back in there to clear his name or get rid of guilt. He didn't have to go back at all, but he did. He understood what real sacrifice was and he did it for you." I want her to really understand this, so I grab the sides of her face (gently) and keep our gazes locked. "He loved you, Tris. Okay? He loved you."

She stays still for a minute searching my eyes. She's looking for the truth and I know she'll see I'm speaking it. A quick nod is the only sign she gives me that she gets it.

"I hate to jump right into it, but I need to understand the extent of your injuries, okay?" Another nod. "Now, your throat may be a little dry and it may be uncomfortable, but I'd like you to try to speak, okay?"

"Water?" It's so soft that I don't know if I would've heard it had I not been so tuned into her.

"Got it all ready for you, Tris." Matthew hands her a half full glass of water. "You might want to try just a little at first. If you can drink all that without a problem, I'll get you more."

Behind us, Peter is quietly asking Cara about what happened and she is trying to explain it to him as straightforward as she can. For her, I have to think it's not all that difficult.

Christina, seated on her other side begins to speak before Tris can try again. "There's something else you should know." As our eyes meet, I know what she's going to tell her and part of me wishes she wouldn't. She was just told her brother died, I don't want her to have too much at one time. But I know she needs to hear it – she would want to hear it. "Uriah is gone. He passed away, but Zeke and Hana were able to get here before it happened, so that's a good thing."

I know she's feeling more than her voice shows, but the Candor in her can't help but be straightforward and brutally honest. Tris chews the inside of her lip for a minute before responding. I know her next question before she asks it, and I know how much the answer will bother her.

"When?" Her voice is a little stronger after the water, at least that's something.

I let Christina do all the talking so that I can keep watching Tris. "Yesterday morning. They decided to pull the plug and let him go."

"Yeah. Yeah." She starts chewing on her lip again and looks down. "I wish I could've said goodbye, you know?"

None of us try to offer her any words of comfort; there's nothing that can really be said to that. We all wish things could have happened differently. There isn't a way to make everything okay; there's no magic fix or cure-all. All we can do is handle the situations we are given the best way that we can. Through grief, through pain and anger, we have to power through it. I've never been the best at it, but I'm learning.

We all are.

We can only hope that time will lessen the hard memories. Together, I don't doubt that it will.


	9. Chapter 9 (CH 56)

**Note:** All characters and story in general came right from Veronica Roth's head, not mine. I only expounded on her idea. Also, _ALL of the words in regular Italic font belong_ to Veronica Roth – her exact words. Whenever you see regular font you are seeing my wording. Also, the _**bold Italic words**_ are mine and are meant to be read with typical italic flare. The first few chapters are here almost word for word from her book because I thought it was necessary to lead up to the change.

CHAPTER 56

TRIS

BEING AWAKE DOESN'T feel all that different than unconscious to me. I don't think I should feel guilty about it, but a part of me does. I should be filled with joy, or at the very least relief; Tobias is here with me – he's not just a memory. I am surrounded by some of my friends. On the other hand, I woke up to grieve over the death of my brother and one of my best friends. I wake knowing what the world was and why. Knowing that people like me are the solution, but I can't protect anyone let alone save them.

I want to live. I want to have my life filled with moments – good moments. I want to make moments and I want to be with Tobias, but living is hard. Living is littered with grief and pain and sacrifice. It's what I know - how I know I can make it - and with Tobias I can more than just make it. That doesn't make it hurt any less right now, though.

Tobias hasn't left my side since I woke. Since before I woke, I assume. We're silent, mostly because it's still kind of hard for me to talk. The others gave us some privacy, probably assuming we have a lot to say, but we've never needed a lot of words to get our feelings across. There is something I need to say to him, though; it's just figuring out what exactly.

He's staring at our hands in what I can only describe as awe, so I squeeze his to get his attention. His smile only gets wider as he looks at me.

"Hey." He's talking quietly, also for my benefit.

"Hey." I smile back. "I just – I just wanted to tell you something."

"It can wait until you're feeling better, really."

"No. I don't want it to wait. I don't want to wait for anything ever again. I don't want to wait to tell you things or show you things. I don't want to wait too long and miss our moments. I need to say it now." It's the most I've spoken at one time since waking up, but it's not unbearable so I press on. "I wanted you to know something, need you to know it."

This time I have to stop to collect myself. On my way to the vault and the entire time after, he occupied all of my thoughts. When I thought I was going to die in that chamber, the pain I felt at not getting a chance to fulfil the hopes I had for us (only hours before) was suffocating. The idea that he was going to lose the most constant person in his life, someone who loves him more than they love themselves was crippling. I need him to know. I stare back at him for a few minutes just to be sure I have his full attention.

After a deep breath I continue. "I just need you to know that I didn't want to leave you." I try to ignore the tears that escape. There aren't many but they come quicker than I can stop them. "I didn't go into the room to be noble or because of a misguided notion about what sacrifice is. I was ready to let Caleb go, but they figured out something was happening. I don't know who and I don't know how, but if we didn't act immediately we weren't going to be able to act at all." Another deep breath. "When the guards caught us, I saw that Caleb wasn't going to make it, and I still wasn't convinced he was doing it for any other reason than to release himself. Turns out I was wrong about that."

I didn't think that Caleb's death would cause me this much pain. He betrayed me, as much as I want to hate him for that, I can't. I had told him before everything happened that I really would be able to forgive him, but when I said it I wasn't really sure of it. I only said it to make him feel better. I didn't forgive him at the time so I couldn't see any other outcome. In the end, Tobias was right. He finally understood what real sacrifice was. He deserves the honor for it. He deserves redemption for it, to be absolved of guilt. He may not be here to witness it, but in my heart, he has all of those things. He was my brother and I love him.

"Hey." His voice comes out softly, sweetly; full of comfort and warmth. "You don't have to leave me, never again. I'm sorry that you lost Caleb, but I am here. I am still your family, and I am not going anywhere, okay? You and me, okay?"

Now that all the words are out, I just want to hold him close. So I do. I pull him to me and let my tears fall, I let the weight leave me and I hold onto him just as tightly as he holds onto me. Him and me, together. That's how we'll go forward from here on out.


	10. Chapter 10 (CH 57)

**Note:** All characters and story in general came right from Veronica Roth's head, not mine. I only expounded on her idea. Also, _ALL of the words in regular Italic font belong_ to Veronica Roth – her exact words. Whenever you see regular font you are seeing my wording. Also, the _**bold Italic words**_ are mine and are meant to be read with typical italic flare. The first few chapters are here almost word for word from her book because I thought it was necessary to lead up to the change.

CHAPTER 57

TRIS

THEY KEEP ME under observation for only one more day. While I'm there they take me for a few more tests and ask me endless questions that I answer to the best of my abilities.

The day I'm released is the day of Uriah's funeral. The use of the Bureau was offered for it but Hana thought it would be best to have it back in Chicago, at the Dauntless headquarters. It may have been an experiment of the Bureau, but it was all we knew. To us it was home, _**is**_ home. His funeral is unlike any I've ever been to before. It's somber and quiet, not wholly unlike Abnegation, but the mood is so much more than Abnegation's funerals. There's real emotion here, it's tangible.

They had him cremated, so I can only look at the ceramic urn and pull memories of his face and his smile. I think about his easy way of talking to anyone, anywhere, anytime. He was full of life and he had so much more to give. He wasn't supposed to die.

It's hard to know that I never got to say goodbye - that I wasn't there in the end. On the other hand, all there would have been for me to do would be to sit and wait and watch - like I had been doing until our attack. He was never coming back, and I think I knew that on some level. Still, things seem a little dimmer without his very big presence.

They have some food laid out after a service, but none of us have that much of an appetite. We say our goodbyes and give our respects to Hana and Zeke before walking out.

" _I know Zeke's still weird around you,"_ Christina _says_ to Tobias _, slinging an arm across_ his _shoulders. "But I can be your friend in the meantime. We can even exchange bracelets if you want, like the Amity girls used to."_

" _I don't think that will be necessary."_ I can see a ghost of a smile on his face. Tobias, Four, was so serious and so solitary in Dauntless that I sometimes forget he had friends. They were few, but they were all he had and trusted before me. And now one of those friends is shutting him out.

Eventually Zeke will be able to move past his anger (misplaced anger), but in the meantime, Tobias will not be alone. We told each other once that we would be each other's family, but I think it's farther reaching than that. He and I **_are_** family; we are a part of each other. We've been woven together and are now inseparable, but it doesn't just have to be the two of us. He and Christina may not have been friendly in the beginning, but she has been brought into our family too. It's not faction before blood, and maybe it never was. It's about people, the people you let yourself get close to and who you let get close to you. It's not because you have the same aptitude or the same genealogical structure. It's because we are all dependent on each other. None of us is too smart or too brave or too selfless or too kind or too honest. It may be buried, but we all possess some part of all of these, and we all need each other to coax them out.

 _We walk down the stairs and out to the street together. The sun has slipped behind the buildings of Chicago, and in the distance I hear a train rushing over the rails, but we are moving away from this place and all that it has meant to us, and that is all right._

 _There are so many ways to be brave in this world. Sometimes bravery involves laying down your life for something bigger than yourself, or for someone else. Sometimes it involves giving up everything you have ever known, or everyone you have ever loved, for the sake of something greater._

 _But sometimes it doesn't._

 _Sometimes it is nothing more than gritting your teeth through pain, and the work of every day, the slow walk toward a better life._


	11. EPILOGUE

**Note:** All characters and story in general came right from Veronica Roth's head, not mine. I only expounded on her idea. Also, _ALL of the words in regular Italic font belong_ to Veronica Roth – her exact words. Whenever you see regular font you are seeing my wording. Also, the _**bold Italic words**_ are mine and are meant to be read with typical italic flare. The first few chapters are here almost word for word from her book because I thought it was necessary to lead up to the change.

 _EPILOGUE_

 _TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER_

 _TOBIAS_

 _EVELYN STANDS at the place where two worlds meet. Tire tracks are worn into the ground now, from the frequent coming and going of people from the fringe moving in and out, or people from the former Bureau compound commuting back and forth. Her bag rests against her leg, in one of the wells in the earth. She lifts a hand to greet me when I'm close._

 _When she gets into the truck, she kisses my cheek, and I let her. I feel a smile creep across my face, and I let it stay there._

" _Welcome back," I say._

 _The agreement, when I offered it to her more than two years ago, and when she made it again with Johanna shortly after, was that she would leave the city. Now, so much has changed in Chicago that I don't see the harm in her coming back, and neither does she. Though two years have passed, she looks younger, her face fuller and her smile wider. The time away has done her good._

" _How are you?" she says._

I really think about it before I give her my answer, not that it's really that hard of a question. _"I'm_ good, _**we**_ are good _," I say._ I'm glad that she's back, but I want to make it clear right away that she is not coming back to just me. With me comes Tris and she needs to care about both of us. "Tris is finally able to decide how she wants to honor her family's sacrifice. She's also trying to get me to agree to a little insanity for the sake of comfort."

 _Today would be Choosing Day, if we still had factions, and it's time to take a step forward, even if it's a small one._ She decided that she wanted to keep that tradition in honoring their lives. Everything that changed in our world started on Choosing Day: when Tris and Caleb transferred, and back even further to when Natalie Prior went against the Bureau and transferred for love. To honor them we are going to perform an act of bravery, a stupid act of bravery. Natalie, Andrew and Caleb Prior were some of the bravest people we knew, as well as the most selfless. I've always thought that bravery and selflessness are essentially the same thing. Their deaths they only proved that to be true.

 _Evelyn puts a hand on my shoulder and looks out at the fields. The crops that were once isolated to the areas around Amity headquarters have spread, and continue to spread through all the grassy spaces around the city. Sometimes I miss the desolate, empty land. But right now I don't mind driving through the rows and rows of corn or wheat. I see people among the plants, checking the soil with handheld devices designed by former Bureau scientists. They wear red and blue and green and purple._

" _What's it like, living without factions?" Evelyn says._

" _It's very ordinary," I say. I smile at her. "You'll love it."_

 _I take Evelyn to_ our _apartment just north of the river. It's on one of the lower floors, but through the abundant windows I can see a wide stretch of buildings._ We were some _of the first settlers in the new Chicago, so_ we _got to choose where_ we _lived. Zeke, Shauna, Christina, Amar, and George opted to live in the higher floors of the Hancock building, and_ Matthew _and Cara both moved to the apartments near Millennium Park, but_ we _came here because it was beautiful, and because it was nowhere near either of_ our _old homes._

"Our _neighbor is a history expert, he came from the fringe," I say as I search my pockets for my keys. "He calls Chicago 'the fourth city'—because it was destroyed by fire, ages ago, and then again by the Purity War, and now we're on the fourth attempt at settlement here."_

" _The fourth city," Evelyn says as I push the door open. "I like it."_

Tris has made this more of a home than I ever could have. We have a living room designed for comfort, a kitchen for functionality and bedrooms that are true to who we are. It looks lived in. Before Tris I never had that, I didn't know how to. There are clothes sticking out of the hamper in our bedroom, this morning's coffee cups were left on a living room table and the dishes from breakfast are still in the kitchen sink _. Sunlight winks in the windows of the building across the marshy river. Some of the former Bureau scientists are trying to restore the river and the lake to their former glory, but it will be a while. Change, like healing, takes time._

 _Evelyn drops her bag on the couch. "Thank you for letting me stay with you for a little while. I promise I'll find another place soon."_

" _No problem," I say. I feel nervous about her being here, poking through_ our _meager possessions, shuffling down_ our _hallways, but we can't stay distant forever. Not when I promised her that I would try to bridge this gap between us._

" _George says he needs some help training a police force," Evelyn says. "You didn't offer?"_

" _No," I say. "I told you, I'm done with guns."_

" _That's right. You're using your words now," Evelyn says, wrinkling her nose. "I don't trust politicians, you know."_

" _You'll trust me, because I'm your son," I say. "Anyway, I'm not a politician. Not yet, anyway. Just an assistant."_

 _She sits at the table and looks around, twitchy and spry, like a cat._

" _Do you know where your father is?" she says._

 _I shrug. "Someone told me he left. I didn't ask where he went."_

 _She rests her chin on her hand. "There's nothing you wanted to say to him? Nothing at all?"_

" _No," I say. I twirl my keys around my finger. "I just wanted to leave him behind me, where he belongs."_

 _Two years ago, when I stood across from him in the park with the snow falling all around us, I realized that just as attacking him in front of the Dauntless in the Merciless Mart didn't make me feel better about the pain he caused me, yelling at him or insulting him wouldn't either. There was only one option left, and it was letting go._

 _Evelyn gives me a strange, searching look, then crosses the room and opens the bag she left on the couch. She takes out an object made of blue glass. It looks like falling water, suspended in time._

 _I remember when she gave it to me. I was young, but not too young to realize that it was a forbidden object in the Abnegation faction, a useless and therefore a self-indulgent one. I asked her what purpose it served, and she told me, It doesn't do anything obvious. But it might be able to do something in here. Then she touched her hand to her heart. Beautiful things sometimes do._

 _For years it was a symbol of my quiet defiance, my small refusal to be an obedient, deferent Abnegation child, and a symbol of my mother's defiance too, even though I believed she was dead. I hid it under my bed, and the day I decided to leave Abnegation, I put it on my desk so my father could see it, see my strength, and hers._

" _When you were gone, this reminded me of you," she says, clutching the glass to her stomach. "Reminded me of how brave you were, always have been." She smiles a little. "I thought you might keep it here. I intended it for you, after all."_

 _I wouldn't trust my voice to remain steady if I spoke, so I just smile back, and nod._

"You seem good, but you're a little different. A little less, I don't know, hostile?" She studies me for a minute more than I'm really comfortable with. "It's her, right? She's really good for you, I can see it."

"Evelyn," I say it like I'm gearing up for an argument, and I am. I don't know if it's because Tris was there for me just because she wanted to be and just because she loved me or because she had the audacity to love me at all, but Evelyn has never truly warmed up to her.

"No, I mean it. I, well, I know I don't have any right to say or feel this way, but I was worried that her attachment to you wasn't as real as you both thought."

"Tris. Her name is Tris, and if you really want any sort of relationship with me you will learn her name and use it. You might also try to be a little more welcoming to her, by the way. It was her idea to let you stay in our home. She's willing to try, are you?"

I see so much of myself in my mother, especially as we study each other, but I am so different from her in the things that really matter. I am willing to fix what's broken, but I am glad I am not her. I probably would have been if I had lost Tris, but I didn't.

Evelyn gives me a nod just as Tris walks in the door. Since we left the Bureau, she has been happier than I've ever seen her (and so have I), but there are moments and sometimes days that are marred with sadness. Today is one of those days. I won't pretend to know or understand what she's feeling or going through, but I am going to be here for her in any way she needs me to be.

"Hey," she says as she smiles sadly at me. Neither of us is particularly good at talking things out with an audience, and I know she needs my assurance now more than ever. Our touches are still filled with power and significance, so I walk to her side and hold her tight as I kiss her. No matter our feelings, there's always electricity and depth when we kiss. When we part we watch each other until our breathing returns to normal.

Turning to Evelyn, but still squeezing my hand tighter than necessary she says, "Hello Evelyn. We're glad to see you back." I can hear the tension in her voice, but only because I know her so well. My mother doesn't notice anything different in her voice at all.

With a nod Evelyn replies, "Yes, and I hear I have you to thank for the place to stay. Thank you."

"Of course." We smile at each other before she continues, but it's a sad, knowing smile.

"Is it time to head out?"

"Yeah, everyone's going to meet us at the platform. Evelyn, you are more than welcome to come if you'd like?" She might have meant it as a statement, but it comes off like a question.

"Oh, no. This is not about me. I have some things I need to unpack and get situated anyway."

Grabbing the keys to my truck, and Tris' hand, I nod at my mom as we leave.

 _The spring air is cold but I leave_ my _window open in the truck, so I can feel it in my chest, a reminder of the lingering winter. I stop by the train platform near the Merciless Mart and_ Tris _take_ s _the urn out of the backseat. It's silver and simple, no engravings._

We _walk down the platform_ hand in hand _toward the group that has already gathered. Christina stands with Zeke and Shauna, who sits in the wheelchair with a blanket over her lap. She has a better wheelchair now, one without handles on the back, so she can maneuver it more easily._

" _Hi," I say, standing at Shauna's shoulder._

 _Christina smiles at me, and Zeke claps me on the shoulder._ I've still retained a bit of my aversion to touch from my years in Abnegation, but Tris is a little more open to it. If it were for any other occasion, she may have been greeted differently, but today she is greeted with hugs. This new family we've created was started because of her, and whether she is here or gone, she is (and always will be) the glue that keeps us all together.

 _Uriah died only days after_ Caleb _, but Zeke and Hana said their good-byes just weeks afterward, scattering his ashes in the chasm, amid the clatter of all their friends and family. We screamed his name into the echo chamber of the Pit. Still, I know that Zeke is remembering him today, just as the rest of us are._

" _Got something to show you," Shauna says, and she tosses the blanket aside, revealing complicated metal braces on her legs. They go all the way up to her hips and wrap around her belly like a cage. She smiles at_ us _, and with a gear-grinding sound, her feet shift to the ground in front of the chair, and in fits and starts, she stands._

 _Despite the serious occasion, I smile._

" _Well, look at that," I say. "I'd forgotten how tall you are."_

"Matthew _and his lab buddies made them for me," she says. "Still getting the hang of it, but they say I might be able to run someday."_

" _Nice,"_ Tris _say_ s _. "Where is he, anyway?"_

" _He and Amar will meet us at the end of the line," she says. "Someone has to be there to catch the first person."_

" _He's still sort of a pansycake," Zeke says. "But I'm coming around to him."_

" _Hm," I say, not committing. The truth is,_ my jealousy over Matthew was very short-lived. It was after he told me the story of his girlfriend that I could plainly see the pain on his face. It was a wonder I had ever missed it _._ The more we see him, though, the less prominent that sadness becomes.

 _I would say more, but the train is coming. It charges toward us on the polished rails, then squeals as it slows to a stop in front of the platform. A head leans out the window of the first car, where the controls are—it's Cara, her hair in a tight braid._

" _Get on!" she says._

 _Shauna sits in the chair again and pushes herself through the doorway. Christina, and Zeke follow._ Tris and _I get on last,_ one of _my hands clutch the handle_ while the other holds Tris close to my side _. The train starts again, building speed with each second, and I hear it churning over the tracks and whistling over the rails, and I feel the power of it rising inside me. The air whips across my face and presses my clothes to my body, and I watch the city sprawl out in front of me, the buildings lit by the sun._

 _It's not the same as it used to be, but I got over that a long time ago. All of us have found new places. Cara works in the laboratories at the compound, which are now a small segment of the Department of Agriculture that works to make agriculture more efficient, capable of feeding more people. Matthew works in psychiatric research somewhere in the city—the last time I asked him, he was studying something about memory. Christina works in an office that relocates people from the fringe who want to move into the city. Zeke and Amar are policemen, and George trains the police force—Dauntless jobs, I call them._ Tris works with the office in charge of city development and changes, a _nd I'm assistant to one of our city's representatives in government: Johanna Reyes._

I let go of Tris so that I can _stretch my arm out to grasp the other handle and lean out of the car as it turns, almost dangling over the street two stories below me. I feel a thrill in my stomach, the fear-thrill the true Dauntless love._

" _Hey," Christina says, standing_ next to Tris _. "How's your mother?"_

" _Fine," I say. "We'll see, I guess."_

" _Are you going to zip line?"_

 _I watch the track dip down in front of us, going all the way to street level._

" _Yes," I say. "I think Tris_ wants _me to try it at least once."_

That gets a laugh out of her. "I told you that you didn't have to, only that it would make me feel better." She rests one hand on my face, her eyes glistening. "Just that you would consider it for me is enough."

 _Christina watches the rails ahead of us_ with a smirk on her face _. "I think_ she's _right."_

"Hey, I said I'll do it, so I'll do it. Who knows, maybe it'll do me some good, right? Besides, I think honoring a brave sacrifice warrants a brave act."

"Yeah," Tris says quietly. "Yeah."

I pull her to my side again and hold her until _Cara guides the train to a stop. At the top of the stairs Shauna gets out of the chair and works her way down the steps with the braces, one at a time._ Zeke _and I carry her empty chair after her, which is cumbersome and heavy, but not impossible to manage._

" _Any updates from Peter?"_ Tris asks _as we reach the bottom of the stairs._

 _After Peter emerged from the memory serum haze, some of the sharper, harsher aspects of his personality returned, though not all of them. I lost touch with him after that. I don't hate him anymore, but that doesn't mean I have to like him._

" _He's in Milwaukee,"_ Christina _says. "I don't know what he's doing, though."_

" _He's working in an office somewhere," Cara says from the bottom of the stairs. "I think it's good for him."_

" _I always thought he would go join the GD rebels in the fringe," Zeke says. "Shows you what I know."_

" _He's different now," Cara says with a shrug._

 _There are still GD rebels in the fringe who believe that another war is the only way to get the change we want. I fall more on the side that wants to work for change without violence. I've had enough violence to last me a lifetime, and I bear it still, not in scars on my skin but in the memories that rise up in my mind when I least want them to, my father's fist colliding with my jaw, my gun raised to execute Eric, the Abnegation bodies sprawled across the streets of my old home._

 _We walk the streets to the zip line. The factions are gone, but this part of the city has more Dauntless than any other, recognizable still by their pierced faces and tattooed skin, though no longer by the colors they wear, which are sometimes garish. Some wander the sidewalks with us, but most are at work—everyone in Chicago is required to work if they're able._

 _Ahead of me I see the Hancock building bending into the sky, its base wider than its top. The black girders chase one another up to the roof, crossing, tightening, and expanding. I haven't been this close in a long time._

 _We enter the lobby, with its gleaming, polished floors and its walls smeared with bright Dauntless graffiti, left here by the building's residents as a kind of relic. This is a Dauntless place, because they are the ones who embraced it, for its height and, a part of me also suspects, for its loneliness. The Dauntless liked to fill empty spaces with their noise. It's something I liked about them._

 _Zeke jabs the elevator button with his index finger. We pile in, and Cara presses number 99._

 _I close my eyes as the elevator surges upward. I can almost see the space opening up beneath my feet, a shaft of darkness, and only a foot of solid ground between me and the sinking, dropping, plummeting._ I can feel Tris move closer to me, wrapping one of her slender arms around my waist and laying her head on my shoulder. That does way more to comfort me than anything else could. _The elevator shudders as it stops, and I cling to the wall to steady myself as the doors open._

 _Zeke touches my shoulder. "Don't worry, man. We did this all the time, remember?"_

 _I nod. Air rushes through the gap in the ceiling, and above me is the sky, bright blue. I shuffle with the others toward the ladder, too numb with fear to make my feet move any faster._

 _I find the ladder with my fingertips and focus on one rung at a time. Above me, Shauna maneuvers awkwardly up the ladder, using mostly the strength of her arms._

 _I asked Tori once, while I was getting the symbols tattooed on my back, if she thought we were the last people left in the world. Maybe, was all she said. I don't think she liked to think about it. But up here, on the roof, it is possible to believe that we are the last people left anywhere._

 _I stare at the buildings along the marsh front, and my chest tightens, squeezes, like it's about to collapse into itself._

 _Zeke runs across the roof to the zip line and attaches one of the man-sized slings to the steel cable. He locks it so it won't slide down, and looks at the group of us expectantly._

" _Christina," he says. "It's all you."_

 _Christina stands near the sling, tapping her chin with a finger._

" _What do you think? Face-up or backward?"_

" _Backward,"_ Cara _says. "I wanted to go face-up so I don't wet my pants, and I don't want you copying me."_

" _Going face-up will only make that more likely to happen, you know," Christina says. "So go ahead and do it so I can start calling you Wetpants."_

 _Christina gets in the sling feet-first, belly down, so she'll watch the building get smaller as she travels. I shudder._

 _I can't watch. I close my eyes as Christina travels farther and farther away, and even as Shauna does the same thing. I can hear their cries of joy, like birdcalls, on the wind._

" _Your turn, Four," says Zeke._

 _I shake my head._

" _Come on," Cara says. "Better to get it over with, right?"_

" _No," I say. "You go. Please."_

I feel Tris squeeze my hand. I know she would let me back out if I told her I wanted to, but I meant what I said. Caleb died protecting her in the most selfless and brave act he could have performed (just like his parents did), and it feels right to do something brave, to do something that scares the hell out of me. And not just because he did something he was profoundly afraid of, but also because I'm still here. I'm still living.

 _She takes a deep breath_ and _climbs into the sling, unsteady, and Zeke straps her in. She crosses her arms over her chest, and he sends her out, over Lake Shore Drive, over the city. I don't hear anything from her, not even a gasp._

 _Then it's just Zeke_ , Tris _and me left, staring at each other._

" _I don't think I can do it," I say, and though my voice is steady, my body is shaking._

" _Of course you can," he says. "You're Four, Dauntless legend! You can face anything."_

 _I cross my arms and inch closer to the edge of the roof. Even though I'm several feet away, I feel my body pitching over the edge, and I shake my head again, and again, and again._

" _Hey."_ Tris _puts_ her _hands on my shoulders. "_ I know you want to do this, but you don't have to, okay?" She's speaking softly to me, but my face is set. I'm terrified. I feel like I want to go in a corner and throw up. I'm not under the allusion that doing this will erase this fear, but I feel like if I can do this, if Caleb could walk into that room knowing and feeling he was going to die, then I should be able to face this. It would prove that I am someone deserving of Tris. Someone that isn't afraid to make the scary or hard decisions. She, of course sees my resolve, shaky though it may be. "Would it help to watch me go first?"

 _That's it. I can't avoid this, I can't back out now, not when I still remember her smile as she climbed the Ferris wheel with me, or the hard set of her jaw as she faced fear after fear in the simulations._

" _How_ do you _get in?"_

" _Face-first,"_ She says with a smile _._

" _All right._ You go and I'll be right behind you. _"_

When she smiles like that, I feel like I'm looking at the sun, like I've just woken up. I would do near anything to make her smile like that every day.

She _hand_ s me _the urn. "Put this behind me, okay? And open up the top."_

I watch her climb in and do as she asks. She turns to face me with one last smile before Zeke sends her down. It's now or never.

 _I climb into the sling, my hands shaking so much I can barely grip the sides. Zeke tightens the straps across my back and legs. I stare down Lake Shore Drive, swallowing bile, and start to slide._

 _Suddenly I want to take it back, but it's too late, I am already diving toward the ground. I'm screaming so loud, I want to cover my own ears. I feel the scream living inside me, filling my chest, throat, and head._

 _The wind stings my eyes but I force them open, and in my moment of blind panic I understand why she did it this way, face-first—it was because it made her feel like she was flying, like she was a bird._

 _I realize, then, that I have stopped moving. The ground is only a few feet below me, close enough to jump down. The others have gathered there in a circle, their arms clasped to form a net of bone and muscle to catch me in. I press my face to the sling and laugh._

 _I twist my arms behind my back to undo the straps holding me in. I drop into my friends' arms like a stone. They catch me, their bones pinching at my back and legs, and lower me to the ground._

 _There is an awkward silence as I stare at the Hancock building in wonder, and no one knows what to say._ I don't even have to look for her; I can feel her standing near me. I reach out and as I pull her into a hug, I feel her wet cheeks against my neck. I squeeze her a little tighter and hold her that way.

 _Christina blinks tears from her eyes and says, "Oh! Zeke's on his way."_

 _Zeke is hurtling toward us in a black sling. At first it looks like a dot, then a blob, and then a person swathed in black. He crows with joy as he eases to a stop, and I reach across to grab Amar's forearm. On my other side, I grasp a pale arm that belongs to Cara. She smiles at me, and there is some sadness in her smile._

 _Zeke's shoulder hits our arms, hard, and he smiles wildly as he lets us cradle him like a child._

" _That was nice. Want to go again, Four?" he says._

 _I don't hesitate before answering. "Absolutely not."_

 _We walk back to the train in a loose cluster. Shauna walks with her braces, Zeke pushing the empty wheelchair, and exchanges small talk with Amar. Matthew_ and _Cara walk together, talking about something that has them all excited, kindred spirits that they are. Christina sidles up next to_ Tris _and puts a hand on_ her _shoulder._

" _Happy Choosing Day," she says. "I'm going to ask you how you really are. And you're going to give me an honest answer."_

 _We talk like this sometimes, giving each other orders. Somehow she has become one of the best friends I have, despite our frequent bickering._ I understand why Tris welcomed her into her world. I understand why Tris relies on her the way she does.

" _I'm all right,"_ she says _. "It's hard. It always will be."_

" _I know," she says._

My arm wraps around Tris' waist and Christina's wraps around her shoulders. _We walk at the back of the group, past the still-abandoned buildings with their dark windows, over the bridge that spans the river-marsh._

" _Yeah, sometimes life really sucks," she says. "But you know what I'm holding on for?"_

We both _raise_ our _eyebrows._

 _She raises hers, too, mimicking_ us _._

" _The moments that don't suck," she says. "The trick is to notice them when they come around."_

 _Then she smiles, and I smile back, and we climb the stairs to the train platform side by side._ I pull Tris to a stop before getting on, holding her face in my hands to make sure she's really listening.

"You are so brave and so good, and I am so lucky to have you. I love you." I stare into her glassy eyes for just a second longer before saying one more time, "I love you."

Her hands reach up to cup mine as tears are freely falling down her face. "I love you so much; so much. You are my family. You always have been. It's because of you that I can even get through this."

I lean in to give her what started off as a soft kiss, but like it usually does with us, it got a little more heated. It's so easy to forget where I am, that other people exist when I am with Tris like this, so the hooting and hollering catch me off guard and break us out of our trance. We smile and head back on the train, together, as it always will be.

 _Since I was young, I have always known this: Life damages us, every one. We can't escape that damage._

 _But now, I am also learning this: We can be mended. We mend each other._


End file.
